Terrible Love
by bonifiedhot
Summary: A Tate Langdon and Violet Harmon Fanfiction. This fanfiction starts from the very beginning. The Harmon family moves from Boston to LA, where they buy a Haunted Victorian known as 'Murder House'. Violet Harmon falls into a terrible love with a ghost. See inside the character's heads and find out what happened with Tate and Violet between the episodes of American Horror Story.
1. Chapter 1

It's funny, how things can change in an instant. One little mistake can start off a whole chain reaction.

In the spring of 2011, things were relatively normal for Violet Harmon. She was waiting for summer to start, she was focused on school, and her life seemed just like any other. Her mother was pregnant with a baby boy that they expected in June. She wasn't very involved in the pregnancy, but she was glad to see how happy it made her parents.

At the baby shower she'd sat in the corner, reading a Russian novel and trying to avoid chatting with her mothers annoying friends. When she was invited to come along to the ultrasounds, Violet would decline, hiding away in her bedroom. It wasn't that she wasn't happy for the arrival of her baby brother, she was just frightened by the change that would take place. Little did she know, change was unavoidable.

It was April 19th when Violet got the text from her father. It was urgent, saying she needed to find a ride home from school as soon as it ended. The rest of the day she couldn't focus in class. She was so worried. What if something had happened to her mother? Had there been an accident? Was she hurt? All these thoughts rushed through Violet's head on the way home. She'd gotten a ride from a girl named Ashley, someone she was friendly with at school and would sometimes eat lunch with. Violet didn't have many friends. She was far from popular, but she was happy that way. She didn't feel that she needed anyone. Frankly, she looked down on her peers. She didn't enjoy keeping their company.

"You getting out?" Ashley had asked, a worried look on her face. Violet hadn't realized they'd arrived. She'd been a daze the entire car ride. "Yeah, um, thanks. See you Monday." Violet had mumbled, hopping out of the silver Toyota and grabbing her bag. Violet had run up the steps, not even needing her key, the door was wide open. "Mom? Dad?" She'd called up the stairs. No answer. Her heart beat fast in her chest. She slowly made her way up, only to be met by her father at the top. His face was as white as a ghost. "Vi, your mother is very weak right now, mentally and physically." He'd told her, his voice almost a whisper. "We'd gone to our final ultrasound and the doctors-" His voice cracked his eyes began to fill with tears. Violet instantly understood. "Oh no, Daddy-" "We, we lost the baby. They think it happened about a week ago. The doctors had to induce labor, and your mother had to deliver our son." Violet had flung herself into her father's arms, feeling him shudder as he sobbed into her hair. "I'm so sorry." She began to cry with him. That was the last time Violet would hug her father in months.

* * *

"Vivien!" Violet was just pulling the house key from her bag when she heard her father yell. "Stop! Stop this! Come on!" "Stop what Ben?! Stop being upset!? Stop wanting to fucking slit your throat open!?" Violet's head jerked up. What the hell was going on in her house? She pressed her ear to the door, not wanting to walk into the eye of the storm.

"Put the goddamn knife down, Vivien!"

"My God, could the bitch be anymore of a drama queen?" A third voice, one Violet didn't recognize, had spoken up.

"Hayden- Now's not the best-" "It's fine Ben. I know when I'm not wanted." A woman Violet guessed was Hayden began to walk to the door. Violet quickly backed away, standing on the edge of the concrete porch. The door opened violently, swinging and slamming into the wall. If Violet hadn't moved, she'd have been flattened.

"Who the hell are you?" The woman hissed. Violet didn't answer. She just stood there, a flat expression on her face as she tried to register what was going on. Hayden was an average height, an average beauty. She had thin lips, a bump in her nose, but wild eyes. She wasn't much older. Maybe by three or five years.

"Vi? Violet?" Her farther called from inside the house. Violet broke her staring contest with the redhead, looking over her shoulder. She couldn't see anyone, but nothing looked different in the front entry.

"Ohhh, so you're the depressed little brat I've heard so much about." Violet's eyes shot back to Hayden. She took a deep breath, her toes curling under. She'd never even seen this woman in her life and she'd already had the nerve to judge her.

"Well, I've never heard much about you." Violet hissed, crossing her arms. Hayden only smirked, walking past her. Her shoulder slammed into Violet's. "Call me later, kay Ben?" Violet heard from behind her.

"Violet?" Violet focused, looking into the house. Her mother was standing in the entry, her cheeks streaked with the red patches she got when she cried. "Mom, what's going on? Are you and dad okay?-" Then she noticed the knife her mother gripped. "Woah. What the hell..?"

"Violet, we're leaving." Her mother said, grabbing Violet's wrist with her free hand. She began pulling Violet into the house and up the stairs towards Violet's bedroom. She flung open the door, an open suitcase sitting on Violet's bed.

"We're going to stay with your aunt in Florida until your fucking father can-" "Mom! Stop!" Violet yelled, jerking her arm away. "You're acting crazy! What the hell is going on?!" Vivien only turned and began pulling things from Violet's drawers, throwing them into the suitcase. "I'll tell you on the plane. Can you please just-"

"Vivien, please. Please stop this. Just talk to me… Please." They both turned. Ben stood in the doorway, his head slumped like a beaten puppy. He was shirtless and crying. He held an old dishrag against his arm.

"You're scum Ben." "I know…" "Oh do you?" Violet just sighed, throwing herself down onto her bed. She had enough to deal with.

The fighting continued throughout the night. Ben had passed out on the couch, and Vivien had fallen asleep on Violet's bed. The sun was coming up, but Violet hadn't even thought about closing her eyes. Instead, she sat in the center of an empty room. The walls were a cheery baby blue, but to Violet they just looked cold and sad. The room faced the forest behind their house and had a large bay window that almost touched the floor. Violet liked to sit here some nights, when the house was pitch black and everyone was asleep. She liked to go there to think. She could just sit there for hours and look out at the dark trees illuminated by the moonlight. The room was originally a guest bedroom, then a baby's room, and now it just sat empty. It probably always would. Her parents couldn't step foot in it. Not since the loss of the baby.

The baby. That was all she heard about these days. Her parents had clung to the death of their little fetus since the tragedy happened four months before. The unborn baby boy was like a ghost who would always haunt them. That was the excuse her dad had used hours before, the baby.

"Things haven't been right with us, Vivien. We've both been so fragile since we lost him. I was so weak." Weak was the perfect way to describe Ben Harmon. Violet had found out that only ten minutes before she'd come home, her mother had walked in on Ben in bed with the woman named Hayden. A student of his, her mother had said. Violet wished she'd known all that earlier. She would have loved to shove the bitch down the porch steps into oncoming traffic. But she hadn't. And Vivien hadn't finished packing the bags, and they'd never gotten on that plane to Florida. Her father had begged Vivien to stay. They'd work things out. Ben would never see Hayden again. They'd have a fresh start. They'd be happy. He just needed a second chance.

_Bullshit._

* * *

It was too cold out to be the middle of August. All of Los Angeles was under a heavy cloud cover that day. The mist raining down made everything hazy… Softer. In the soft light of the rising sun, the Victorian home known as "Murder House" almost looked cozy and safe. Almost. That was, if you ignored the deceased gay couple that stood out in the middle of the lawn, screaming their heads off.

"Oh no, don't you walk away from me Patrick! Not this time! Not again!" The dark haired man known as Chad Warwick screeched. The blonde one, Patrick Cook, stood a head taller. He turned quickly, pushing his hands against Chad's plaid clad chest. "You do this to me! You drive me insane!" Patrick yelled, shoving Chad into a half dead hydrangea.

"Jesus H. Christ, you'd think this house would have better upkeep. When I lived here the grounds were absolute perfection. Who's the gardener anyways? Does he know there are homosexuals in the flower garden?" Everyone's head turned to look at the woman standing at the gate, including a shaggy blonde who sat on a stone bench on the lawn. Acrylic nails on hips, she easily pushed through the iron gate. It was five in the morning and Constance Langdon was perfectly made up. Her blonde hair was smoothed to perfection and pinned back. She stood tall in her white heals, and her classic yellow dress swished around her knees as she walked up the brick pathway to the house.

"Oh goody, Mommy dearest has decided to grace us with her presence." Chad snickered, pulling himself from the dead plant. "To what do we owe this honor?"

"Hold your bitchy little jabs to yourself, Chad." Constance said, not even looking at him. She had her eyes fixed on someone else. "I'm here for my boys."

"Pat and I will leave you to it then- Oh and Connie, Hon? Please mention to that daughter of yours to stop bringing those mangy little dogs over. I don't care to step on dog shit." Chad said, turning on his heal and walking to the front door, Patrick following behind him.

"You're fine with marrying it, though…" The blonde boy sitting on the bench muttered under his breath. He was replied with Patrick's middle finger and the door slamming behind them.

Constance hadn't noticed her son sitting there. He'd been completely silent, hiding behind an old book he'd found in the attic the day before. It was old and leather bound and the pages were yellowed from age and an unkind environment. It was an outdated book on human anatomy, which Tate had found fascinating. He loved the pictures. They were from autopsy's in the early 1900s.

"Sweet pea?" Constance's southern drawl poisoned his ears as she walked closer to him. Tate grimaced, closing the book and setting it next to him.

"What do you want?" He sneered at his mother, standing up. Despite the heals, Tate was much taller. Constance was no coward though. She held her ground, not one to be intimidated.

"Oh, nothing. Thought I'd come by… Have a little chat." She hummed, smiling stupidly. "I've missed you so. I'd visit more, but dear Addy is such a handful." Tate ground his teeth together. The last thing he'd want was for her to visit more often.

"You have something to tell me. Just cut all the bullshit and spill it, mother." Tate said, crossing his arms over his chest.

"You're still wearing that ratty old thing?" Constance ignored him, reaching out and touching the tattered edge of his sleeve. Tate wore one of his favorite -and only- sweaters over a faded pair of jeans that were ripped on the knees. The sweater was a beige camel color, made of a scratchy material. It was something he'd had since he was alive.

"That just won't do. I should really go out and get you some new clothes. Does my Beau need some too? And my Lord, look at that ratty 'ol book. I'll go out and get you some new reading material. I heard that Twilight book is very good-"

"Stop, stop, stop." Tate said, waving his hands and crunching up his face as if he'd just smelled something fowl. "I'm really not in the mood to deal with you." He muttered, staring at his mother coldly.

"Tate-" She began, but she was silenced by his hand over her mouth, his nails digging into her cheek.

"Go."

After Constance left, Tate had gone into the basement to play with his older brother Beauregard, a mongoloid who'd died in the house seventeen years before, only a few months before Tate himself had passed. Tate sat on the cold ground, his back to the wall as he rolled a red rubber ball back to his brother. A light at the stop of the basement stairs came on, and Beauregard instantly hid away into the shadows, taking the ball with him.

"Oh- Oh my. It's quite chilly today." A voice came from the top of the stairs. Tate looked up to see Nora Montgomery, one of the houses first victims, descending the stairs. She held a white handkerchief over her heart. That was something Tate always noticed with Nora. The woman was always crying into that damned piece of cloth. He couldn't stand to see her so sad.

"Yeah, they said it might rain today." Tate smiled gently at her, slowly rising and meeting her at the bottom of the stairs.

"Who said that?" She asked, her face plastered in bewilderment.

"The weather gu- Oh." Tate smiled bashfully, remembering. In the early nineteen hundreds, there weren't TV's and weather men. It'd be impossible to describe it to her. "Never mind."

"Who are you?" She asked him. Tate rolled his eyes. You'd think she'd remember after the past thirty years.

"_Tate_, Nora. I'm Tate. I'm your friend."

"Oh, yes, that's right. You're the- You used to be so small… What happened?" Tate laughed. "I grew up."

"Where's my baby?" Nora asked, her eyes getting watery. Oh no, not this again. When she was alive, Nora had lost her infant son Thaddeus. He was brutally murdered and then brought back to life, like something out of Frankenstein. Now he was a mutilated monster baby, terrorizing anyone who set foot in the basement.

"I promised you a baby. I'll get you one. You just have to give me some time." Tate comforted her, rubbing her back. "Someone's going to move in soon, and then I'll get you as baby. I promise."

* * *

"You ready, Vi?" Vivien's voice called from downstairs. Violet stood in the center of her room. Well, what _used_ to be her room. Today was the day the Harmons started fresh. They were moving across the country to Los Angeles, California. Only God knew why. Violet's parents had done a great job at choosing the shittiest state in all of the United States to move their family too. Violet had to leave everything behind for something she knew wouldn't work out, and she was pissed.

"No. I'm not. I never will be." Violet yelled back, walking to her open door and leaning against the frame. She heard her mothers footsteps coming up the steps, and Violet quickly made sure her sleeves were completely rolled down. There were fresh red cuts, carelessly covered in bandaids. She'd made them that morning. Cutting wasn't a new habit for Violet. She'd been doing it since she was thirteen, and she had multiple white scars going up both arms to show for it. Her parents would sometimes get a glimpse of the old scars, and they never asked questions. They just exchanged sad glances and treated Violet like a china doll. They didn't want her to break.

"Really sweet heart, you need to cheer up." Vivien appeared in Violet's doorway, pulling her stubborn child into a tight hug. "This'll be good for us, you'll see. We'll get a nice house, you'll start at a new school and make loads of new friends, and hey, we'll be super close to the beach."

Violet shrugged out of her mothers embrace, looking at her bitterly. "New school. Wow, great. It's not like anything was wrong with the old one." She muttered, her arms crossing over her chest like a defiant child. "And you know I hate the ocean. Yeah, I love to look at it, but sand and salt water isn't really my thing."

"Ladies, come on! The moving truck is probably half way there! Let's go, let's go, let's go!" Ben called up the stairs, clapping encouragingly. Violet sighed, looking at her bedroom one last time. She never really liked her house, but it would probably feel a lot more like home than anything in California.

Three days, three Marriott's, and multiple McDonald's later, the Harmon's had finally arrived in California. The drive had been long and unbearable for Violet. It took everything she had not to throw herself out the window by the time they'd gotten to Tennessee. To make matters worse, her mother's dumb dog had developed a bad case of car sickness. Halley wasn't much fun to share the back seat with.

"Violet, look out the window!" Her father called cheerfully from the front seat. Violet turned her attention to what was going on outside the moving vehicle. They were driving down Hollywood Boulevard, and for the first time Violet couldn't help but laugh.

"Oh my God, what the hell is wrong with all of these people?" She laughed, looking at the people who walked down the sidewalk. There was a large mixture of tourists, snapping pictures at every little street sign or piece of dog shit on the ground. Then there were the locals. They looked like something from a sci-fi movie. One woman was so skinny she look like she'd drop dead any moment. Her hair was a puke green color, and she wore a black mesh top over red glittery booty shorts. Then there was a large group of transvestites posing for a picture with someone dressed as Michael Jackson.

"Welcome to Hollywood, Violet." Her father laughed.

They were almost to their new house. They hadn't bought it yet, but they were going to see it in person for the first time. Ben had found it online and fell instantly in love with it. Violet didn't even know what it looked like. She'd been too pissed off by the idea of moving to check. They were five minutes away now, finally getting out of Hollywood and onto the freeway.

"The lighting is different here. It's softer." Vivien commented, staring in awe out the window.

"It's called smog, Mom."


	2. Chapter 2

Tate Langdon stood in the Murder Houses entryway. The doorbell had just rung and the house's bat shit relator was rushing for it. She slammed right into the brick wall that was Tate.

"Oh, Jesus Christ." She exclaimed, putting a hand over her heart. "Do you really have to go and scare me like that?"

"What the hell do you think you're doing Marci?" Tate glared at the middle aged woman. She shrugged away from him, shrinking slightly in fear.

"Only my job. I need to make a living somehow. For the love of God, please go make yourself scarce. I can't afford to lose this sale." She pleaded, shooing him off with her hands. Tate made himself vanish from her sight, but he was still very much there. He hid in the shadows as he watched her adjust her blazer and plaster on her fake smile.

"Welcome! You must be the Harmons!" She said in her overly cheery voice. Tate had heard it all before. Almost twice a week, Marci would sucker unsuspecting couples into looking at the Murder House. Of course, they fled as soon as they heard the tiny bit of history she had to share. Tate was bored instantly. He didn't care to hear the introductions, he just wanted to see how they'd react when Marci mentioned what had happened to the previous owners. He tuned it out, walking into the sitting room. He just wanted to get this over with.

"It's a classic LA Victorian, built around 1925 to _the_ doctor to the stars." Marci droned on, leading the family into the hallway. From the corner of his eye, Tate watched them pass. A man, a woman, and someone else. A girl. Maybe fifteen or sixteen. That instantly peaked his interest. Tate stood, quickly moving to peak from around the corner. The Harmons were facing the stairs, so Tate only got a look at the back of her head. He had to figure out a way to get her attention… Draw her away from her parents.

It was easy. Tate made his way to the basement door, completely invisible to their eyes. Not to the yappy little dog though, animals could always see what humans couldn't. It began spazzing out in the girls arms until she had to set it down. It ran straight to him, barking like crazy. "What the hell's your problem?" Violet hissed at the mutt, following it to the basement door where Tate stood. He opened it a crack, walking down the stairs. He prayed that the mysterious, self opening door would be enough to lead her down.

Violet did as predicted and the curiosity over came her. She made her way down the steps, looking around cautiously. Even in the dim light, Tate could tell she was beautiful. She was natural too, not a spot of makeup. She didn't try too hard with her clothing. She didn't need any of that shit. She was perfect, from her bowed lips to her honey colored eyes. They were the size of the moon and Tate was mesmerized.

"Violet?' A man's voice called from upstairs. Tate's lips curved into a smile at the word._Violet_, so perfect. She turned and began to leave, but with one last backward glance, Tate's heart stopped beating. For a moment, one tiny little moment, it was as if she were staring right at him.

* * *

They'd been in the house for an entire week but Tate hadn't approached her. Something told him not to. It wasn't safe. He couldn't interfere with her. He couldn't fuck her up like he fucked everything up.

_Violet._ Like her name, she was delicate. At night, while her parents were fighting, Tate would watch her. She'd excuse herself from the dinner table, walking up to her bedroom. Violet would stuff earbuds into her ears, lying back on her bed and just stare at the ceiling until she'd fall asleep. Sometimes silent tears would run down her pale cheeks. She was too tough to let anyone know how she was really feeling.

"I'm sorry you're so sad." Tate would whisper, knowing she couldn't hear him.

He didn't know her. She was a complete stranger. Tate wanted to know her though. He wanted it so badly. Sometimes, he'd have to fight the urge to stomp over to the bed and throw himself down next to her. He wanted to pull the earbuds out and ask her if she could escape anywhere, anywhere at all, where would she go? He wanted to know what she liked to do on rainy days and which side of the bed she liked to sleep on. He already knew that though. It was the right. He watched her sleep every night.

The day she'd come home from her third day at Westfield High was the day Tate couldn't take it anymore. That was the day Tate would first speak to Violet, have his first session with Ben, and the day he'd don the black latex suit and climb on top of Vivien Harmon. He hadn't been paying much attention to Violet on her first and second day of school. He'd been a little nervous, making preparations to create Nora's baby. Just the thought of climbing on top of the woman made him feel sick. Vivien was a total MILF, but Tate… Tate was much more attracted to her daughter. It wasn't about the sex, he told himself over and over. There was no emotional attachment. He just had to get in and get out and make a child for Nora. Besides, he didn't even know these people. It wasn't like it mattered.

Well, he didn't know them that well. That day, Tate had watched Violet enter her bathroom and pull a razor blade from her little silver box. He'd watched as she gently pressed, sliding it across her skin. The crimson trail that followed the blade and landed on the white porcelain sink had made his hands twitch and his heart race. It was like a trigger for him. He had to take a deep breath and try to send the bad thoughts away.

"You're doing it wrong." He'd said to her, watching her head snap up. Her eyes were wide. "If you're trying to kill yourself, cut vertically. They can't stitch that up."

"How'd you get in here?" She'd screeched, turning on her heal. Tate tried not to snicker.

"If you're trying to kill yourself, you might also try locking the door." Tate had finished with a coy smiled, slowly shutting the door behind him.

* * *

Violet was completely dumbfounded. Who the fuck was that kid? The whole invasion of privacy part was a little low, but Violet had to admit, the guy had balls. She figured it was probably just one of the crazies her father treated. Knowing they were freely walking around her house in between sessions made her a little uneasy.

An hour later, she sat at the top of the stairs, studying the old wooden walls of the house. They were elegant, nothing like her old home. They had had a very modern, all white and chrome house back in Boston. The doorbell rang. Violet wasn't in the mood for pointless chitchat with another friendly neighbor. Violet had come to the conclusion that the weird woman next door was bat shit after she'd come over to introduce herself the day before, so Violet wasn't too excited to know who else lived around here. She shifted on the stairs, moving so she could hide behind the railing, unseen. She peeked around the corner, watching her father open the door. "Hello Tate, come on in." Her father said, greeting the shaggy blonde formally. She scoffed at his behavior, he always put up such a prudish front for his patients.

Her father turned, opening the door to his office and leading the way in. The blonde guy, Tate she guessed, stood there for a moment. Violet curiously peaked her head out farther, trying to see what he was doing. He shifted then, starting after her father. As he got to the doorway, he turned, looking directly at her. Violet's breath caught in the back of her throat. That was him, the guy who'd walked into her bathroom as if he'd owned the place and found her cutting. Her mouth was half opened, her eyebrows scrunched together as she stared at this boy. She was so curious. "Tate?" Her father called from inside his office. Tate winked at her, throwing Violet a cocky grin that gave her chills. He turned, quickly following after her father, shutting the door behind him.

An hour later, Violet was lying on her bed. The sun was still out, beating through her bedroom windows. It was far too hot to be September. The California weather was fucking nuts. She tried to ignore an annoying, consistent tapping on her window. It was probably just a crazy bird who was suffering from heatstroke. She tuned it out, staring up at the ceiling fan that slowly went in circles, not really doing much. Lifting her wrist, she examined it. Slowly, she pulled off a bandage she had wrapped the wound in. It was still fresh, only being made a few hours before. It had finally stopped bleeding, so Violet guessed that it was good enough. She pulled her sleeve back down, leaving the bandage on the floor.

_'Tap-Tap-Tap' _The annoying sound continued, but now it got more rapid, like the bird was viciously flinging itself at her window. Violet grunted, pulling herself from her bed. She walked to the window, looking down at the ground below. She expected to find a dead bird, but saw something else. There stood the guy from before, Tate. He stood under her window, his hands casually in his pockets as if he just happened to be walking along. He saw that he'd caught her attention, and a huge grin broke on his face. He took a hand out of his pocket, waving at her. She awkwardly waved back, wondering what was going on. Then his wave turned into waving her to come down. She cocked her head, looking away at her bedroom door for a moment, wondering if she should. Looking back out the window, Tate was gone.

* * *

"Um, hello?" Violet called out, standing under her bedroom window. She stood amongst the trees alone, no shaggy blonde in sight. "Dude, you're sort of supposed to go home when your sessions done." She called out, wondering if he could hear her. Violet looked at the house, seeing the basement door on the side open. Violet guessed that's where he went, so she followed.

"Hello..?" She tried again, fumbling through the darkness as she tried to find a light. Her hands trailed along the wall, finally making contact with a switch. She flipped it and turned around, finally able to see. She gasped at what she saw. Standing right in front of her, his chest touching hers, the strange boy Tate stood, blinking his intelligent dark eyes at her.

"Hello." He grinned down at her, his sweet breath blowing in her face. Violet stumbled backwards, tripping over a box on the ground. "Woah there." Tate chuckled, grabbing her arm and helping her up. Violet stood up straighter, pulling her arm away. She glared at him.

"I can take care of myself." She said, looking him over. He seemed to be doing the same thing too, making Violet blush.

"I don't think you can." He said with another blinding smile that left her breathless. Violet paced around him, not taking her eyes off of his.

"You do know you're not supposed to be here?" She questioned, watching him plop down on the floor, crossing his legs.

"Yep, but I like to explore. You know, snoop around. This house has a shit load of cool stuff to look at." He said, giving her a cocky grin. Violet slowly walked towards him, sitting on the ground across from him but still several feet away.

"It's not normal to look through other peoples shit, but by judging from the fact that you have to see my dad, and you like to walk in on people in the bathroom, I highly doubt you're normal." Violet bantered back, staring at the strange boy that sat across from her.

"You're one to judge Violet Harmon. You're far from normal." He said, grinning at her, seeming completely unfazed by her comment. "I've seen you around. You're not like other girls."

"How do you know my name?" She replied, ignoring his last comment.

"You know mine." "Just your first." "And that's all you need to know for now." Tate replied, his voice getting colder. He stood up, walking away from her. "I don't want to go by my last name. I hate having anything to do with it." He said, making his way to the door.

"Is that why you're seeing my dad then? Family shit?" She asked, standing up and walking after him. Violet was getting curious.

"No." He stated, coldly glaring at her.

They glared at each other for a moment, Tate's facial expression slowly softening. He finally smiled warmly at Violet. "I'll see you around, Harmon." He said, walking through the door and vanishing.


	3. Chapter 3

"This is it." Tate whispered to himself, staring at his reflection in the mirror. He felt sick to his stomach. Murder was one thing. He felt no guilt about it, taking someone away from a cruel, hopeless world. But now he was bringing new life into the world he so strongly detested. Not only that, but he had to rape someone to do it.

"Stop being a pussy. Stop being a fucking pussy." Tate hissed at his reflection, narrowing his eyes. He took a deep breath, pulling the black latex mask over his head. It felt slimy and constricting. He didn't even look human. It was showtime.

Tate made his way from the bathroom, slowly walking down the hall past his old bedroom where he knew Violet Harmon was sleeping. He tried to clear her from his mind. He had a job to do.

"I can be kinky." Vivien said to him minutes later. She was convinced he was her husband under the shiny black latex. Tate watched as she climbed onto the bed, lying on her back. He almost wanted to scoff at her. She had no idea what kinky meant. Apparently it was missionary position. He didn't say a word though. He was silently relieved she didn't want to make a whole show of it. He just needed to get it over with.

He climbed on top, quickly unzipping the crotch on the suit. His limp dick fell out. He was completely turned off. This wasn't going to go well. Vivien would think it was time to invest in Viagra for her aging husband. Tate grunted, clearing his mind. He needed to turn himself on. His mind went to what he'd been thinking about every time he'd jerked off in the past week._ Violet._

The teeny pajama shorts she wore to bed. How her neck looked when she put her hair up in a pony tail. How sometimes she'd gasp in her sleep when she was having a nightmare. _Her blood_, hot and crimson, dripping on the bathroom sink…

That did it. Tate's eyes were cold, but with one rough jerk of his hips, he was pounding into her. Vivien was a different feeling than what Tate was used to. She was… Loose. She stared up at him, moaning with every thrust, her breasts bobbing up and down on her chest. Tate couldn't look at her. He shoved her head to the side roughly.

It only lasted two minutes. With each rough, forceful thrust, he was brought closer to the edge. There was no point in riding it out and making it last. He had no intention of making her climax. He just took in a sharp inhale, releasing himself into her. She let out a final gasp, rolling onto her side. With that he stood up, zipped up his crotch, and exited without making a single sound. It was as simple as that. Tate walked down the hallway, passing a sleepwalking Ben Harmon on the stairs. As soon as he made it to the basement, Tate tore the rubber suit off, hanging it on a hook that was on the wall. He considered doing away with it, but who knew when it would be useful again. He quickly changed into a comfy sweater and jeans, and finished the night off by doing what he usually did when sleep wouldn't take him.

He watched Violet as she slept.

* * *

Violet hadn't run into Tate for the next three days. He was scheduled to see her father twice a week, Tuesdays and Saturdays, for an hour and a half. He'd only had one session so far, but Violet was determined to listen in on the next one. She didn't get this guy. She was anxious not knowing who he was and what his deal was. It fascinated her.

At 1 o'clock in the afternoon that Saturday, the front doorbell rang. Violet's hands began to sweat. She rushed down the stairs to hide in the kitchen until they made their way into the room. Violet waited for the sound of the office door to shut and then made her way to an open arch that led from the hallway to the office.

Violet sat there for about half an hour, listening to her father ask Tate very generic questions.

"What was your childhood like?" "It was shit." "Did you have many friends?" "Nope, just my brother and sister." "How did you enjoy your classes?" "Tell me this, Doctor. If you had to spend seven hours a day in a classroom full of moronic little shits, would you enjoy your classes?" Violet couldn't help but smile at all of Tate's answers. He wasn't like anyone she'd ever known before.

"I was afraid my big dick wouldn't work." Violet nearly choked on the air she was breathing. She'd sort of tuned out the conversation, thinking about school and seeing Tate there. She wondered if she would later that week. That would probably make it more bearable.

"Yeah, that's why I stopped taking the pills. I was afraid my big dick wouldn't work. Because I met someone." His eyes moved from Ben, landing directly on her. Violet's breath was caught in her throat. He knew she was there. He'd known all along. Violet turned, fleeing into the kitchen. She collapsed onto the kitchen counter, feeling the cold granite on her cheek. It felt good against the hot blush that had overcome her entire body.

* * *

Tate's session had ended an hour ago, but Violet had been too embarrassed to even check to make sure he'd left. She'd just run into her bathroom and sat alone in her bathtub, utterly humiliated. Tate had seen her. What did that make him think of her? Had he even been talking about her? Did he really have a big dick? Violet shook her head, trying to make all the thoughts go away. The blonde haired, grungy boy had tainted her brain. She couldn't stop thinking about him, and she hardly knew him. She hated that.

Violet stood up, assuming it had been long enough to sulk. She walked to the mirror, staring at herself for a moment. He couldn't have been talking about her. She was_ just_ Violet. She didn't have a big chest or a sexy body. She was plain. Average. Guys just didn't find Violet Harmon attractive. They'd never noticed her. Why would this Tate guy notice her?

She sighed, splashing her face with cold water from the sink. She just needed to go into her room and blast some music to drone out the thoughts. Violet turned off the faucet, leaving the bathroom. She headed down the hallway towards her bedroom but stopped, hearing sounds coming from it. She slowly pushed aside the door, peering in. There, standing with his back facing her, Tate stood. He was busy flipping her ipod in his hands, poking at it aimlessly.

"This is a piece of shit. It doesn't do anything." He complained, turning to look at her. "Hey." He smiled, walking to the center of her room. Tate sat on the floor Indian style, reclining on his hands.

"You really need to stop doing that." Violet rolled her eyes, regaining brain function.

"Doing what?" "Randomly showing up in my house uninvited. There's a name for people like you. _Stalkers_." Tate snickered at her little jab, motioning for her to sit in front of him. As Violet did, he spoke.

"I'm not a stalker. I'm just a really curious person." "What are you so curious about?" Violet asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

"You." He smirked, looking her over in a way that made Violet want to shrink down and hide inside her dress. She couldn't tell if that was a come on, or if he really was curious about her. _Maybe he wants to know why such a lonely, boring person even bothers getting up in the morning;_ Violet thought.

"I just find you really fascinating." Tate spoke up, his eyebrows were close together as a look of concentration covered his face. It looked like he was trying to see into her head, or maybe take a huge dumb. Violet giggled at his expression. "What?" He said, his voice bewildered. "Nothing, nothing." Violet snickered, biting her lip to stop the giggles. "You're just really weird."

"Aren't we all? Sorry, I was just… I wonder how someone with such a seemingly nice life could be so unhappy." Tate shrugged, looking down at Violet's wrist. "I mean, especially with your dad being a shrink, I'd think you'd be the last person to… Cut yourself."

Violet looked away, hiding her face in her hair. His words made her feel ashamed. "There's a lot more to my story than you could imagine…" She mumbled, pulling her sleeves farther down her arm.

"No, Violet." Tate said, grabbing her wrists in his large hands. Her head jerked up, watching what he was doing. "Don't be ashamed of your battle scars. You don't have to cover all that up in front of me. I'd like to know your story, really." He smiled kindly at her, putting her hands back in her lap. "I didn't mean for it to seem like I was judging you. I used to cut too." Tate lifted up his arm, pulling up the sleeve of his sweater. He pointed to one of the faint scars that were on his wrist.

"This one I did after my dad left. I was ten, I think."

* * *

"Something wicked this way comes." Violet muttered under her breath, watching as a group of girls led by Leah headed her way. Leah Cook was the living, breathing reincarnation of Vlad the Impaler. At least that's what Violet thought. She swore the brutal, hot headed girl was one of the legendary vampire's descendants.

The girls didn't get off to a very good start. On Violet's first day at Westfield High, Leah had caught Violet smoking in the school's quad. Smoking was a sore subject for Leah after her grandmother had died of lung cancer. She'd started a fight with Violet, calling her out for endangering everyone's lives with her second hand smoke. "Eat it or I'm going to kick the shit out of you!" Leah had yelled at Violet, forcefully attempting to shove Violet's lit cigarette into her mouth. After spitting in the girl's face, Violet had gotten away.

She couldn't avoid her forever. Violet knew that at some point she was bound to run into the brunette again. That moment was_ now_. Violet had been standing against the far wall of her highschool cafeteria, surveying the groups of teenagers that had gone by as she took small puffs from a cigarette. She was just about to head to her locker when Leah and her group of snake-like friends slithered up.

"Well if it isn't the bad ass twelve year old." Leah smirked, getting uncomfortably close to Violet. She towered over her, but Violet wasn't scared. She was small, but Violet could run like hell. She'd noticed in the past few months, she'd spent a lot of time running from things.

"Leave me alone." Violet rolled her eyes, squeezing past Leah and the wall. She wasn't in the mood to deal with her nonsense. Violet began to walk away but was halted by the feeling of someone's nails digging into her arm. "What the he-"

"Don't walk away from me, you little snot." Leah hissed, jerking Violet back to her. Once again Leah was up in Violet's face, her pretty facial features contorted into something undesirable.

"Don't touch me, crazy bitch!" Violet yelped as she felt Leah's nails dig into the tender flesh of her arm. She tried to pull away, but the girl's grip only tightened.

Leah's nostrils flared. Her little minions were behind her, trying to calm her down. "Leah, drop it! Come on! She's not worth it!" Their words only gave Leah more incentive to bash the younger blonde's face in.

"If that cigarette isn't going to kill you, I will." Leah hissed, shoving Violet back against the wall. The cigarette flew from Violet's hand on the impact.

"You're insane!" Violet yelled, shoving Leah back. A group of onlookers had gathered, their faces excited. Violet and Leah were a show and they were loving it. Leah let out an enraged grunt, her hands grabbing Violet's hair. Violets hands grabbed at the taller girls shoulders, trying to push her away. Her scalp was burning with a sharp pain when Leah was forced to let go, flying back onto her ass.

"You little shit!" She wailed, jumping to her feet. She ran at Violet, swinging her arm, her hand made a connection with Violet's face. Her ring tore at Violet's forehead, cutting it. Feeling a drop of blood fall onto the tip of her nose, Violet was momentarily disoriented. She was still, but before she could regain her thoughts Leah was jumping at her, pushing Violet to the floor. The girls squirmed and tussled as Leah tried to pin Violet's hands over her head. Being larger and stronger, Leah had the upper hand. Violet was beginning to fear that this fight was hopeless, she was dead meat. Her thoughts were resolved when she looked over, spying her still lit cigarette beside her on the floor.

In a rash decision, Violet stuck out her arm, grabbing the cigarette. She shoved it into the flesh on Leah's hand.

"Ow!" The brunette yelped, jumping up. Violet jumped of too, running for the door. "She freaking burned me!" Violet heard Leah screeching even after she'd run from the cafeteria. Violet continued to run. She ran past school security on a golf cart, she ran past the front gates of Westfield High, and she ran straight to the main road, where she proceeded to walk home, back to her beloved murder house. School wasn't worth it. She'd rather be home anyways, where she could rant to someone. Usually Violet would talk to her mother about these sorts of things, but Violet craved someone elses input.

After Violet had gotten home, she'd had to sit for what felt like hours with her mother as she interrogated her on how Violet had gotten cut. Violet had said she'd tripped, but her mother had called her out on her bullshit, knowing her daughter all too well. It felt good to talk to her mother, something she felt they didn't do as much since the affair.

Still, Violet was anxious to talk to someone else. She had not idea how she'd get a hold of him, considering they'd never swapped numbers or anything. Somehow he always seemed to be around when she needed him though.

Violet made her way to her bedroom, her door swinging open before she could even reach it. "Who the hell did that to you?" Tate's hands were all over her shoulders, feeling around helplessly. His eyes were wild, his voice was frantic. He looked worried, but at the same time the dark gleam in his eyes terrified Violet. Tate looked like he was ready to kill someone.

"Shhh!" Violet hissed, shoving Tate back into her room and shutting the door behind her. He hurried to a chair that sat against a window, flopping in it and crossing his legs. His hands and feet were constantly moving, it was a tick he had when he was nervous. "My parents are downstairs."

"Violet, who did that to your face?" He whisper-hissed, his eyebrows knit together in concern.

"Just some bitch." She sighed. She'd wanted to talk to Tate about it, but he obviously got too anxious. She looked at him, seeing the twitchy blonde boy sitting in her chair. He was as beautiful as he was nervous. Then it dawned on her. "Tate, why were you in my room?"

He instantly stopped squirming, his expression turning to something almost sheepish. "Oh, um… I found some old tapes, some really cool garage bands from the nineties. I thought, maybe, we could hang out and listen to them?"

Violet smiled at him. "Oh. We don't have a cassette player, though." Tate frowned, his expression almost shocked.

"That's weird." He said, gazing out the window for a minute as he tried to collect his thoughts. "I saw you coming up the driveway from your bedroom window, and I saw the blood. Then I… Sorta ease dropped on your conversation with you mom. You really are fearless, huh?" He smiled, at her, looking almost proud.

Violet blushed. "No one's fearless. I think I'm just a bit more grounded than most. Things don't really get to me that easily."

"That crazy bitch that attacked you seemed to." Tate interjected, nodding at the cut on Violet's forehead. Violet shrugged, remembering the days events. "What did she do, Vi?"

Violet began to pace her bedroom, Tate's eyes not lifting from her face the entire time. She bit her thumb nail, trying to formulate the sentences in her head. "She just- She attacked me! Every time the bitch sees me she gets all up in my face! She just harasses me endlessly! I hate her! I just want to kill her!" Violet whined.

"Then do it!" Tate suggested, his face completely serious. "One less highschool bitch making the lives of the less fortunate more tolerable is, in my opinion, a public service. Look- if you want to make her leave you alone, stop making your life a living hell, short of killing her there's only one solution. _Scare her_. Make her _afraid_ of you. It's the only things bullies react to." The idea was alluring.

"How?" Violet asked, turning to look directly at him. She momentarily stopped pacing.

"It's simple." Tate smiled knowingly at Violet. "You simply walk up to her and say something along the lines of 'You need to stop harassing me.' Convince her you have something she wants. Then, tell her to come here so she can get it."

"She's a coke head. I don't have coke!" Violet complained. She wanted this to work so badly.

"You won't need any! It's just an excuse to get her here. After that she'll leave empty handed and terrified, and I promise you, you'll never be bothered by her again."

"How am I going to terrify her?" Violet cocked her head. So far the idea sounded good, but Violet had no idea what to do next. She wasn't exactly what one would consider 'scary' or 'intimidating'.

A wicked grin played across Tate's lips, one that sent shivers down Violet's spine. "That's where I come in."


	4. Chapter 4

"Something wicked this way comes." Violet muttered under her breath, watching as a group of girls led by Leah headed her way. Leah Cook was the living, breathing reincarnation of Vlad the Impaler. At least that's what Violet thought. She swore the brutal, hot headed girl was one of the legendary vampire's descendants.

The girls didn't get off to a very good start. On Violet's first day at Westfield High, Leah had caught Violet smoking in the school's quad. Smoking was a sore subject for Leah after her grandmother had died of lung cancer. She'd started a fight with Violet, calling her out for endangering everyone's lives with her second hand smoke. "Eat it or I'm going to kick the shit out of you!" Leah had yelled at Violet, forcefully attempting to shove Violet's lit cigarette into her mouth. After spitting in the girl's face, Violet had gotten away.

She couldn't avoid her forever. Violet knew that at some point she was bound to run into the brunette again. That moment was_ now_. Violet had been standing against the far wall of her high school cafeteria, surveying the groups of teenagers that had gone by as she took small puffs from a cigarette. She was just about to head to her locker when Leah and her group of snake-like friends slithered up.

"Well if it isn't the bad ass twelve year old." Leah smirked, getting uncomfortably close to Violet. She towered over her, but Violet wasn't scared. She was small, but Violet could run like hell. She'd noticed in the past few months, she'd spent a lot of time running from things.

"Leave me alone." Violet rolled her eyes, squeezing past Leah and the wall. She wasn't in the mood to deal with her nonsense. Violet began to walk away but was halted by the feeling of someone's nails digging into her arm. "What the he-"

"Don't walk away from me, you little snot." Leah hissed, jerking Violet back to her. Once again Leah was up in Violet's face, her pretty facial features contorted into something undesirable.

"Don't touch me, crazy bitch!" Violet yelped as she felt Leah's nails dig into the tender flesh of her arm. She tried to pull away, but the girl's grip only tightened.

Leah's nostrils flared. Her little minions were behind her, trying to calm her down. "Leah, drop it! Come on! She's not worth it!" Their words only gave Leah more incentive to bash the younger blonde's face in.

"If that cigarette isn't going to kill you, I will." Leah hissed, shoving Violet back against the wall. The cigarette flew from Violet's hand on the impact.

"You're insane!" Violet yelled, shoving Leah back. A group of onlookers had gathered, their faces excited. Violet and Leah were a show and they were loving it. Leah let out an enraged grunt, her hands grabbing Violet's hair. Violets hands grabbed at the taller girls shoulders, trying to push her away. Her scalp was burning with a sharp pain when Leah was forced to let go, flying back onto her ass.

"You little shit!" She wailed, jumping to her feet. She ran at Violet, swinging her arm, her hand made a connection with Violet's face. Her ring tore at Violet's forehead, cutting it. Feeling a drop of blood fall onto the tip of her nose, Violet was momentarily disoriented. She was still, but before she could regain her thoughts Leah was jumping at her, pushing Violet to the floor. The girls squirmed and tussled as Leah tried to pin Violet's hands over her head. Being larger and stronger, Leah had the upper hand. Violet was beginning to fear that this fight was hopeless, she was dead meat. Her thoughts were resolved when she looked over, spying her still lit cigarette beside her on the floor.

In a rash decision, Violet stuck out her arm, grabbing the cigarette. She shoved it into the flesh of Leah's hand.

"Ow!" The brunette yelped, jumping up. Violet jumped up too, running for the door. "She freaking burned me!" Violet heard Leah screeching even after she'd run from the cafeteria. Violet continued to run. She ran past school security on a golf cart, she ran past the front gates of Westfield High, and she ran straight to the main road, where she proceeded to walk home, back to her beloved murder house. School wasn't worth it. She'd rather be home anyways, where she could rant to someone. Usually Violet would talk to her mother about these sorts of things, but Violet craved someone elses input.

After Violet had gotten home, she'd had to sit for what felt like hours with her mother as she interrogated her on how Violet had gotten cut. Violet had said she'd tripped, but her mother had called her out on her bullshit, knowing her daughter all too well. It felt good to talk to her mother, something she felt they didn't do as much since the affair.

Still, Violet was anxious to talk to someone else. She had no idea how she'd get a hold of him, considering they'd never swapped numbers or anything. Somehow he always seemed to be around when she needed him though.

Violet made her way to her bedroom, her door swinging open before she could even reach it. "Who the hell did that to you?" Tate's hands were all over her shoulders, feeling around helplessly. His eyes were wild, his voice was frantic. He looked worried, but at the same time the dark gleam in his eyes terrified Violet. Tate looked like he was ready to kill someone.

"Shhh!" Violet hissed, shoving Tate back into her room and shutting the door behind her. He hurried to a chair that sat against a window, flopping in it and crossing his legs. His hands and feet were constantly moving, it was a tick he had when he was nervous. "My parents are downstairs."

"Violet, who did that to your face?" He whisper-hissed, his eyebrows knit together in concern.

"Just some bitch." She sighed. She'd wanted to talk to Tate about it, but he obviously got too anxious. She looked at him, seeing the twitchy blonde boy sitting in her chair. He was as beautiful as he was nervous. Then it dawned on her. "Tate, why were you in my room?"

He instantly stopped squirming, his expression turning to something almost sheepish. "Oh, um… I found some old tapes, some really cool garage bands from the nineties. I thought, maybe, we could hang out and listen to them?"

Violet smiled at him. "Oh. We don't have a cassette player, though." Tate frowned, his expression almost shocked.

"That's weird." He said, gazing out the window for a minute as he tried to collect his thoughts. "I saw you coming up the driveway from your bedroom window, and I saw the blood. Then I… Sorta ease dropped on your conversation with you mom. You really are fearless, huh?" He smiled, at her, looking almost proud.

Violet blushed. "No one's fearless. I think I'm just a bit more grounded than most. Things don't really get to me that easily."

"That crazy bitch that attacked you seemed to." Tate interjected, nodding at the cut on Violet's forehead. Violet shrugged, remembering the days events. "What did she do, Vi?"

Violet began to pace her bedroom, Tate's eyes not lifting from her face the entire time. She bit her thumb nail, trying to formulate the sentences in her head. "She just- She attacked me! Every time the bitch sees me she gets all up in my face! She just harasses me endlessly! I hate her! I just want to kill her!" Violet whined.

"Then do it!" Tate suggested, his face completely serious. "One less highschool bitch making the lives of the less fortunate more tolerable is, in my opinion, a public service. Look- if you want to make her leave you alone, stop making your life a living hell, short of killing her there's only one solution. _Scare her_. Make her _afraid_ of you. It's the only things bullies react to." The idea was alluring.

"How?" Violet asked, turning to look directly at him. She momentarily stopped pacing.

"It's simple." Tate smiled knowingly at Violet. "You simply walk up to her and say something along the lines of 'You need to stop harassing me.' Convince her you have something she wants. Then, tell her to come here so she can get it."

"She's a coke head. I don't have coke!" Violet complained. She wanted this to work so badly.

"You won't need any! It's just an excuse to get her here. After that she'll leave empty handed and terrified, and I promise you, you'll never be bothered by her again."

"How am I going to terrify her?" Violet cocked her head. So far the idea sounded good, but Violet had no idea what to do next. She wasn't exactly what one would consider 'scary' or 'intimidating'.

A wicked grin played across Tate's lips, one that sent shivers down Violet's spine. "That's where I come in."

* * *

Violet took a deep breath, each step down the hall taking her closer and closer to Leah. Violet wasn't scared of her, she was scared of the cellphone that was burning a hole through her sweater's pocket. She had to get the right. She wanted to impress him. "Here's the deal. I need you to stop harassing me." Violet walked right up behind Leah. She felt a satisfactory tingle go up her spine seeing she'd caught the brunette off guard. "I've got what you want. Drugs. Come to my house tomorrow for your free sample. I'm a dealer and a good one. I've got the best shit in town." Violet had rehearsed those lines, over and over.

Leah smirked, grabbing her books and shutting her locker door. "Tomorrow after school. See you there, Harmon." She said, sashaying away. Violet smiled triumphantly, pulling the phone from her pocket and holding it up to her ear.

"How'd I do?" She grinned as a slightly clammy hand held the phone over her ear. She made her way down the hallway, turning into an abandoned girl's bathroom so she could have some privacy. Tate wanted to hear Violet's confrontation with Leah, so Violet had suggest her come with her, despite the fact that he'd told her he was home schooled. Tate had declined the offer, saying his presence would make Leah suspicious. Instead, Violet had called the house phone where Tate has picked up, waiting to hear it all on speaker. It reminded Violet of when she was little and how the little girl next door would always want to play with walkies-talkies.

"I don't know Vi, but you sticking up for yourself is pretty hot." She heard Tate chuckle on the other end.

"Oh shut up!" Violet laughed, finding an empty stall and sitting on a closed toilet. She pulled her knees up to her chest, wrapping an arm around them. "Are you ready though? The bitch is coming over tomorrow."

"Violet, of course I am. Mayhem and overall badassery is my forte."

"I thought stalking around stranger houses was."

"That too."

Violet's smile faltered, hearing Tate's voice on the phone. School would be so much more bearable if he was there. He was her only friend in LA. Unlike everyone else, he understood her. He knew just what to say to make her feel better. He could take her mind off of all the shit in her life.

"Vi?" His voice was on the phone again, only this time he sounded slightly concerned. "You okay?"

"Yeah." She spoke up, her voice soft. "Just thinking. I really hate it here, Tate. Why can't you just go here with me?"

"I told you, I got expelled." His voice was almost nervous, as if she were prying into something he didn't want her to know.

"I know… It would just make things a lot more tolerable. I'd have someone to talk to that wasn't a complete shit head."

"Hey! I'm a pretty big shit head!" He joked, making Violet laugh. When he spoke again, Tate's voice was softer, kinder. "I'll be here after school, if you want… We can hangout then, do whatever you'd like."

Violet smiled. She was glad he couldn't see the excitement on her face and the blush that covered her entire body. "Yeah… That would be nice." She replied, waiting to hear his voice again. There was silence. "Um, Tate..?" Violet somewhat shouted into the phone, trying to figure out why the line had gone silent. "Tate?!"

"Mrs. Harmon, is there a reason why your home phone is decorating the kitchen floor?" Violet's eyes widened, hearing the muffled voice of the housekeeper on the other line.

"Oh God, I'm sorry Moira. You know Ben can get so disorganized." Violet heard her mother's voice.

"Oh dear, it says it's currently in use. I wonder why. Hello? Harmon residence." Moira answered the phone. Violet quickly hung up, jumping off the toilet seat. Tate wasn't supposed to be at her house until his session at three. He must have heard Moira coming and hid. She rolled her eyes. She hated that there friendship had to be kept secret. Violet pocket her phone and left the stall, counting down the hours until the school day was over.

* * *

Tate Langdon stood in front of Ben Harmon's Mirror, smoothing down his hair with one of Ben's combs. Violet would be home any minute, and he had a date. Well, sort of.

"Oh, the Ba-Ba-Black Sheep actually gives a shit about his appearance for once? Someone call TMZ, they _need_ to get a picture of this." Tate almost jumped hearing Chad's voice come from behind him. He dropped the comb in the sink turning to scowl at the brunette man leaning in the doorway.

"Jesus fuck, Chad. Don't you have someone else to bother?" Tate hissed, not in the mood to deal with him. He would have been more pissed off at Chad's little remark, but Tate didn't know what TMZ was.

"Actually, not at the moment. Pat's busy in the backyard watching that hunky doctor pull weeds. I thought you could entertain me for a while."

"I can't." Tate muttered, putting Ben's comb away. He turned, pushing through the doorway past Chad. "Violet's going to be home from school soon and-"

"_Oh_. I get it." Chad smirked, following after Tate. "You want to steal Wednesday Adam's virginity."

Tate's eyes closed, his nostrils flared in anger and he clenched his fists. "It's not like that." He hissed, turning to face Chad. "I care about her, it's not… I'm not just going to try and fuck her and run." Tate turned, leaving the master bedroom and heading down the hall.

"She's going to find out about you eventually, you know that!" Chad called after him, still standing in the doorway of the master bedroom. "It's not going to turn out well! For any of us!" Tate ignored his words, leaving Chad behind.

He'd thought about it. Fuck, he'd thought about it a lot. If he was finally going to admit his feelings to himself, Tate cared for Violet. He thought she was beautiful, and smart. She had his sense of humor and they could talk about anything. She understood him. He understood her better than he understood himself. He wanted to be more than friends with her. He wanted to hold her, kiss her, touch her, be there for her in ways friends couldn't. Tate wanted Violet to be his _girlfriend_. The word always sounded funny in his head. He was dead. He had no right having a girlfriend, and it amazed him he'd even met someone who had caused that feeling inside of him.

Then, there were always the complications. Tate was dead. That was a fact. He'd been shot seventeen times by a SWAT team, in 1994, in the very room Violet now slept in. Only Tate had no idea why they'd shot him. He assumed he'd done something terrible though. Maybe he'd robbed a bank, or kidnapped someone. He didn't have those answers for himself, so he could never give them to Violet. Of course, if she'd ever find out the truth about him, she'd probably run for the hills. If she didn't, another factor weighed on him. Violet was alive. She was only fifteen and she had her entire life ahead of her. If this infatuation ever turned into more, love even, where would that put them? Violet could die in the house. That way they'd be together forever. But Tate couldn't ask her to do that. He didn't want her to. He could never be selfish with her…

The sound of a car outside pulled him out of his thoughts. Tate glanced through a window upstairs that looked over the front yard. It was Vivien's car, she must have come back from picking Violet up from school. Tate pushed his thoughts into the back of his head. He had to do what the living did, live _in the now_. Plus, a lot of it wasn't even his concern now. It could wait a while.

Using one of his favorite afterlife tricks, in a blink Tate had appeared in the front yard. He hid behind the rose bushes, watching as Violet emerged from the car.

"I'm just going to make a quick run to the market. You need anything?" Vivien called from the drivers side, leaning over so she could see Violet. Violet shook her head, the tail on her coon hat moving with her.

"Nah, I'm good." She smiled at her mother. Tate knew it wasn't a real, genuine smile. It was more of a dismissal.

"See you soon honey." Vivien called, pulling Violet's door closed. She quickly drove away, leaving Violet in the driveway. Usually, Violet would just walk up the driveway to the side of the house where there was a door into the kitchen. Today was different though. She was meeting Tate, and he'd told her before that he'd meet her in the yard. Her dad was home and he couldn't risk being in the house.

Violet walked down the driveway, turning onto the sidewalk and walking up to the front gate. She slowly opened it, taking two steps into the yard.

"BOO!" Tate yelled, jumping right in front of her, his hands squeezing at her sides. Violet squeaked, dropping her book bag on the ground.

"Tate! Oh my God!" She yelled, shoving him in the chest. He just laughed, loving the expression on her face. She was trying to cover up shock and fear with anger. "You're a douche." She muttered under her breath, calming down.

"I know." Tate smiled, his hands still holding her sides. He held them there for a moment, sliding them down to her hips and then pulling them away. Violet looked away, the contact creating a deep blush on her cheeks. "Hi." Tate smiled down at her, reaching an arm down to pick up her bag. His eyes didn't break contact with hers.

"Hi." Violet smiled, taking the bag from him. "Thanks…"

Tate nodded, looking around the yard for a moment. Then his eyes lit up. He grabbed Violet's hand, her little soft fingers fitting perfectly in his grip. "Come on, I want to show you something." He grinned, pulling her towards the house. He turned, going around the side and into the back.

"There's nothing back here." Violet whined, dragging behind him. Her pace was not as fast as his.

"Oh yes there is." Tate smiled back at her, leading them both towards thick bushes. "You have to get on you knees and crawl." Tate insisted, getting down on all fours. Violet just stared at him, a dumbfounded look on her face.

"You want me to _what?!_"

"Crawl, Miss Pissy Pants." He tugged her arm, making her get down next to him.

"You're insane." She sighed, not enjoying the feeling of twigs poking through her tights.

"I know." Tate only chuckled, turning from her and crawling straight into the bushes. Violet followed behind, the branches poking at her sides and wiping her face. Only a foot later, they were out. Tate stood, brushing off his hands and holding one out to Violet. She took it gratefully, standing up next to him.

They were in a tiny closed in space. From the yard it just looked like a large group of overgrown bushes clumped together, but inside it was cleared. It was about six feet wide. The ground was coated in dry, oval shaped leafs from a pepper tree above. There was a small iron bench, slightly rusted, in the center. Two cinder blocks stacked on top of one another sat next to it, almost like a makeshift table. There were old books in the hollowed centers of the cinder blocks, poetry books by various authors."…Tate? What is this?"

Tate smiled, taking a seat on the bench. He patted the spot next to him and Violet obeyed, sitting. "I don't really know. I found it when I was little. I lived in this neighborhood with my mom and my brother and sister. I'd always wanted to get away. My mom was bat shit, I knew that from a really young age.. But one day when I was snooping around, I found this place. The bench must have been put here by a previous owner. I dragged the cinder blocks and brought the books, eventually. But I'd come here, play with my toy cars and sit for a few hours… It was my place to escape. I come here to think." Tate smiled fondly at his little hiding spot. The smile on his face warmed Violet's heart.

"It's really nice." She said softly, intertwining her fingers in his. "I like it."

Tate's smile widened, looking down at their hands. Maybe it was just her way of being nice, but it made Tate's heart thud. "I've never shown this to anyone before."

Violet looked down at her lap shyly, the blush she dreaded returning. It was such a dead giveaway. She'd thought about Tate all day. She couldn't wait getting home to see him. She knew it was just a silly little crush. She cursed herself for having one on her father's patient. But something about this, about Tate, was different. She'd had crushes before. They were hopeless and never returned. But Violet felt strongly about Tate. He had that quality where he could be her best friend, and someone she could feel romantically for. He made her heart skip a beat.

"What are you thinking about?" He murmured, staring at her curiously. Violet's blush only deepened in embarrassment. She was being so awkward.

"Um, nothing. Just my day. You know, that whole thing with Leah that happened today and how tomorrow she's-" Violet was cut off by Tate's lips on hers. She was startled and stiff, not expecting this to happen. After a moment, Violet finally closed her eyes, realizing what was happening. She relaxed, leaning into him.

On the tiny bench they were turned towards each other, their knees touching. One of Tate's hands was still intertwined with hers, his other moving to her back, wrapping his arm around her. Violet's free hand awkwardly hung at her side for a moment before she moved it to wrap itself in Tate's blonde curls. His lips were warm and soft, his nose pressed into her cheek. Violet's lips parted slightly with his, feeling his hot breath tickle her lip. Violet sighed against him, absolutely loving the feeling of his lips on hers.

Tate chuckled against her, pulling his face away. He couldn't help but smirk at the slight pout on Violet's face. "Why'd you stop?" Violet asked, pulling her hand away. She'd been surprised in a good way by their first kiss and she was disappointed it had ended.

"I think I hear your dad." Tate chuckled, brushing a piece of hair out of Violet's face.

Violet raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms like a stubborn child. "I'm not afraid of him." She insisted. "I'm not afraid of anything, Tate."

Tate laughed, shaking his head. "You really aren't, are you?" He grinned, pulling Violet's legs onto his lap. She scooted closer, happily tangling her fingers back into his hair. Tate's arms wrapped back around her waist, pulling her into him so there was no room between their bodies. His lips found hers again.

"Violet?" Ben's voice was close. He must have seen her bag lying outside of the bushes. "Are you out here?" Violet's head instantly snapped up. She and Tate untangled themselves and she stood. Tate remained sitting, a smirk on his face.

"Okay, don't look at me like that. I'm not _scared_. I'm just not in the mood to get grounded." Violet insisted, getting back on the ground to exit the bushes. "Wait until I get in the house before you leave."

Tate just smiled his cocky little smile, nodding. With a salute, he waved her off. "See you tomorrow Harmon. Don't forget to bring the Coke Whore."

* * *

"What's down there?" Violet watched as Leah peered down the stairs, her blue eyes reflecting the darkness of the basement. Leah's usual self confidence was obviously diminishing with each step she took.

"My stash." Violet smirked, following her down the stairs. "My parents toss my room every week." She was pleased with herself that she'd gotten Leah this far. Violet still had no idea what Tate was planning, she just hoped it was worth it.

"You're screwing with me." Leah sounded nervous but she still had her classic undertone of an A+ asshole. The girls feet echoed on the creaky wooden stairs, making the atmosphere much more dramatic. The lights were dim and everything was bleak. Violet loved it.

"It's just the basement." She insisted, rolling her eyes. "I found the _best_ hiding place. This is great shit too. A lot of the coke coming into the US from central American is smuggled in on lobster boats." Leah made contact with the ground. She observed her surroundings as Violet continued.

"I used to show my boobs so the lobster men would turn around for a tip before they cut it."

"So where is it?" Leah questioned, seeing there was nothing around but Violet and the old walls. Her voice was nervous and questioning. Violet was enjoying this too much.

"Right around the corner." Violet waved to an open doorway. Leah was hesitant, but she proceeded, entering through the door and turning in the wrong direction. "Ugh, to the right!" Violet directed.

"This place is a dump." Leah bitched, her hand grazing the thin layer of dust on the stone walls.

"Oh shut up."

"I want my goddamn drugs!" She demanded, glaring over her shoulder at Violet. Violet's mouth curled up in a coy little smile.

"Than keep going." Violet suggested, nodding to the dark room in front of them.

Leah took a deep breath, trying to gain some courage. She took a step forward into the pitch black room, being submerged in the darkness. Violet's hand found a switch on the wall.

"So this is the coke whore." Tate's menacing voice echoed in the darkness. He rocked back and forth on a old white rocking chair, a creepy smile spread across his lips. Violet was slightly fearful of the dark look in his eyes.

"Who the hell are you?" Leah hissed, her nose crinkling up as she tried to process the new turn of events.

Tate's eyes never left Leah. He was a lion sizing up his kill. "Get the lights."

In an instant Violet's hand had flicked off the lights that illuminated the basement. She pulled her hand away, but the lights flickered on and off. It was strobing and disorienting. Leah let out a shriek, seeing in the brief moments of light Tate had begun convulsing in his chair, his eyes rolled into the back of his head. He looked possessed. Violet assumed he was bullshitting them, but it was still a freaky sight. "Cokewhorecokewhore_cokewhoorrreee_!" The sounds escaped his mouth as he twitched and shuddered in his little white rocking chair.

"What's going on? What is going on?!" Leah shrieked, backing away. In a blink, Tate had leapt from his seat, jumping on top of her. They both fell to the ground, Leah screaming as Tate had her pinned beneath him. He held her hands above her head as she wriggled and yelled.

As the lights flickered, the scene began to change. Tate was no longer on top of Leah. Instead, he was replaced by some tiny little humanoid creature. Violet let out a horrified scream, her hands flying over her mouth. What was on top of Leah wasn't human. It was small, sheathed in some sort of yellowing lace garment. It's tiny hands were reaching for Leah, dirty and grimy. The creature had long mangled claws. It's face was the most horrifying part. It's beady black eyes and beak like nose sat above it's open mouth, filled with rows of tiny sharp teeth that looked to be covered in blood.

As the creature attacked Leah, dragging her back whenever she tried to squirm away, Tate stood over them, his face lit up in a dark grin that made Violet even more terrified. He was enjoying this. He knew what that creature was, and he liked seeing Leah in fear and pain and fighting for her life.

"Stop!" Violet cried out, trying to run towards Leah to help. She hadn't seen Tate move, but he was behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her away. He pushed her away from the scene and Violet fell against a water heater. Disoriented and confused and the lights continued to pulse, Violet looked up to see Tate back on top of Leah. The monster was no longer there. Before Violet could sigh in relief, it was in front of her, it's tiny little mutant legs bringing it closer and closer to her at an alarming rate. It's tiny claws were outstretched, and Violet let out a terrified, broken sob as she tried to crawl backwards. A wall kept her from moving any further. She was toast.

Violet closed her eyes tight, prepared to feel it's mangled nails make contact with her head. Maybe it would gouge out her eyes or rip out her throat. Violet didn't have time to find out because for some reason the monster had pardoned Violet. She didn't know it, but it was because Tate had told the creature to.

The monster was on top of Leah again, hissing and spitting. She cried out, staring at it's little mouth of razor sharp teeth that could rip through anything. "_Mommy." _She pleaded, terrified. The creature's claws came down, cutting deep gashes into the left side of her face.

The light's came on again, and Violet opened her eyes again. Leah was alone on the floor, three deep cuts on the side of her face. Tate stood next to the light switch, a triumphant look on his face.

Leah jumped up, screaming and sobbing as she clutched her raw cheek. She sprinted from the room, Violet running after her. "Wait! _Wait!_" Violet screamed as Leah sprinted up the stairs. It was too late though, the girl ran through the basement door and into the house.

"I don't think she'll be bothering you anymore." Tate came up behind Violet, standing in the doorway to the room where the nightmare had just taken place. She turned, trying her hardest not to collapse in front of him. His arms were crossed over his 'Normal People Scare Me' T-Shirt and a huge grin inhabited his face. He was so casual, so obviously pleased with his work. He looked as if he expected to be praised. Violet was shaking, her breathing had hitched and a cold sweat had broken out over her entire body. She was anything but pleased.

"What was that?!" She cried out, her eyes darting around the room. She had no idea where the little monster had gone, but she expected it to jump out again.

"What are you talking about?' Tate's smile fell, he perked up, no longer casually leaning in the doorway. "She kneed me in the balls and got away." Tate's face looked confused. "She must have run into a wall or something!" He insisted.

"No! I saw something!" Violet shrieked, her face terrified.

"What are you-? Violet you're talking crazy." Tate's face was plastered in concern and confusion, but Violet wasn't buying it. He'd seen it too. He had to. "This is cool! We showed that bitch!" He insisted, walking towards her.

Violet wobbled, taking a step back. Her breathing hitched and her fear quickly turned into anger. She'd been there, she'd seen everything. Now Tate had the nerve to call her crazy. If anyone was crazy, he was the crazy one. "Get out." She demanded, her teeth bared. "I never want to see you again!"

Tate's entire expression changed as soon as she said that. His face fell. He looked panicked and terrified. He shook his head no, as if he were pleading with her. Opening his arms he reached for Violet. Her hands touched his chest, shoving him away. Tate's face looked pained, broken. Violet looked angry and hurt. She backed away until she was against the stairs. Silently she turned, bounding up the basement stairs. For a moment Tate just listened to the echo of her footsteps, frozen in shock. Then the pain of what had just happened hit him like an atomic bomb. His chest felt as if it was about to explode.

"I THOUGHT YOU WEREN'T AFRAID OF ANYTHING!" He screamed after her, Violet's only answer the slamming of the basement door.

Tate stood alone in the basement, trying to register the millions of different emotions that were currently drowning him. Under the hurt and the anger, the humiliation and pain, Tate came to one conclusion. Violet hated him, and he had to fix that. He had to earn her trust back, and he had to make it up to her. He was a monster capable of horrible things, but if anyone could change him for the better, it was Violet.


	5. Chapter 5

Violet didn't see Tate or Leah for the next two weeks that followed the incident. On the days that Tate had his sessions with Ben, Violet would just stay out of the house to avoid running into him.

At school, Violet had expected to run into Leah. She'd actually hoped she would. She wanted to apologize for what had happened, and there was a little part in her that just wanted to talk about it. Besides Tate, Leah was the only person who would understand what Violet was talking about. She'd seen the monster too. She couldn't call Violet crazy.

Only Leah never showed up at school. After a week, Violet had asked Leah's little minions where she was. They had no idea, they'd just assumed she'd had bad cramps or had gotten a zit. Violet had an idea of the reason for her absence, but she didn't share it with them. She only asked for Leah's cellphone number and left it at that.

When it had finally been two weeks, Violet decided it was time to make the call. She hesitantly pressed the seven little digits into her iPhone, listening to it ring three times before it was picked up with a shaky little Hello. After a lot of convincing and bargaining, Leah had finally agreed to meet Violet at the old indoor skate park in downtown LA. Violet had found it a few days ago on one of the days she'd been out avoiding Tate, and she had found it to be charming. She met Leah there an hour later.

It was a shock to see Leah Cook in such a state as she was now. Usually so put together and on top of her game, Leah was now a mess. There were dark bruises under her eyes that gave away insomnia. She was almost three shades paler than her natural coloring. Her eyes were dull, they no longer glittered with the life and ferocity that they had before. Leah's entire demeanor was different too. She slumped, her voice was quiet and raspy. At every little sound, every little movement, Leah would jump. She was constantly on guard, constantly terrified.

They sat on the edge of the empty pool that was used for skating. Leah took in shaky breaths, slowly inhaling a cigarette as she watched skaters go by below. "I thought you hated smoking." Violet pointed out, staring at how the girl's thin fingers shook as she held the cigarette.

"I've taken it up…" She breathed, her voice raspy and strained. "I can't sleep. I'm terrified of… Everything." Leah turned to Violet, her voice a whisper. "What attacked me wasn't human."

"It was Tate." Violet rolled her eyes, still not so sure herself.

"No, you saw that other thing too!" For the first time Leah's voice was louder, sounding almost normal.

"He was trying to freak us both out." Violet insisted, her voice sounding somewhat unsure. "What did you tell your parents?" She asked after a moment, wanting to change the subject from Tate. The emotional wounds he'd inflicted on her still stung and she didn't want to poke at them. For now she'd let them fester in silence.

"Ugh, don't worry." Leah rolled her eyes that were covered by dark sunglasses. "I told them I got attacked by some troll on Melrose who wanted my Chanel. I couldn't tell them I went to your house to score coke, could I?" She scoffed, little hints of her personality peaking through. "I had to file a fake police report and everything."

"How deep are the cuts?" Violet asked, her eyes glued to the bandage the covered most of Leah's cheek.

"Deep…" Leah's voice was hollow. "God, and I just- I can't stop thinking about that mouth!" She shook her head as if she were trying to shake the images away. Violet knew for a fact it didn't work. She'd been trying to get that little demonic face out of her head for two weeks now.

"It was a mask. He was purposely trying to terrorize you." She insisted. Violet knew it couldn't be true, but she wanted it to be. Some sort of explanation was better than none at all. Plus, the idea of it just being Tate was much better than the alternative. "That hat doesn't look like you." Violet mumbled, nodding towards the over sized floppy purple hat Leah covered her head with.

"It serves a purpose. Look-" Leah lifted her hat, her hands grabbing at a large chunk of white hair that grew amongst her dark brown locks.

"My hair is turning white. From _fear_." She emphasized to word fear, pushing the hat back down. "Yeah, I read on the internet that's possible." Violet's mouth hung open. She was quiet, staring at Leah in silence. Leah slowly pulled off her glasses, turning to Violet.

"..Do you believe in the devil?" Leah spoke up with a question Violet wasn't expecting.

Violet had never really thought much about that sort of thing. She was never religious, just mainly agnostic. She'd always believed that there was a possibility of a God, but there was no way of knowing for sure. Violet believed in darkness and evil though. She knew that existed. She couldn't just tie it to the devil though."No…"

"I do." Leah whispered, her face serious. "I've looked into his eyes."

Violet assumed Leah meant the little beady eyes of the monster that attacked her, but all she could picture was Tate's. Not the eyes she adored, the warm dark brown ones that always crinkled up when he smiled. Violet pictured the pitch black, sinister eyes that she's seen two weeks ago in the basement. She feared them, but at the same time, she was drawn to them.

There was a dark side to Tate Langdon. It was twisted and terrifying, something Violet hadn't expected to see from him. He wasn't the devil, no, but there was something about him Violet had yet to find out. There was a darkness in him, one she found herself drawn to.

When it came to Tate Langdon, Violet was a moth to a flame.

* * *

She was avoiding him. It was obvious. The past two weeks had been hell for Tate. On the days he had sessions with Ben, the days where he had an excuse to talk to her, Violet stayed out of the house. He wanted to talk to her. He wanted_-needed_ to apologize.

When she'd moved into the house, things had finally started to look up. Of course Tate had to go and fuck that up.

Two weeks after the basement incident Tate listened as Violet called Leah. They were going to meet somewhere, at some skate park he'd never heard of. He'd grimaced, knowing there would probably be a lot of talking about him. It wouldn't be in his favor. He considered finding a way to keep Violet from leaving, but he had to let Violet make her own choices. He knew she was a big girl. She could take care of herself.

Tate's night turned out to be much more interesting than he'd expected. After Violet had left, Tate found himself wandering aimlessly around the Murder house. As five PM came around he listened in as Vivien and the ghost maid Moira shared a cup of tea. The smell of the warm tea was strong and it must have been the exact brand Moira had made for his mother when Tate was a child. The familiar smell made him feel nauseous and he had to vanish. Tate made his way into Violet's bedroom where he entertained himself by looking through her things. Like a pervy little boy Tate smirked to himself as he raided through her underwear drawer. Just as he'd expected it was filled with modest boy shorts and B cup bras, but he still found it sexy as hell.

There was a false bottom to a jewelry box on her desk. It contained two packs of cigarettes and a bunch of pictures of Violet as a child. Tate laughed looking at a skinnier, gawkier Violet with braces standing in front of a lake. The back of the picture read 'Violet at Grandpa Bill and Grandma Josie's lake house, December 19th 2008'. There were also baby pictures and elementary school photos in the mix. Tate pocketed one.

Car lights from the driveway outside momentarily lit up Violet's dim bedroom. Tate quickly moved everything back to where it was, doing his best to make it look like he'd never been there. He ran to look out the window, hoping to see Violet coming up the walkway. Instead is was Ben, a sight that brought Tate's mood down even further. With a heavy sigh Tate left Violet's bedroom, heading down the stairs. He lazily walked into the basement, finding his rubber suit. If he had to wait for Violet any longer, he was going to have a little fun in the mean time. He considered scaring Chad, but with him the joke had become stale. Ben's reaction would be far more interesting.

Rubber suit clad, Tate waited in the kitchen pantry, listening for Ben to enter. After a few minutes Ben did, walking up to Vivien and kissing her on the cheek. Tate waited, listening to them talk about dinner. "I think I want Indian food." Vivien smiled, the curve of her lips hiding some sort of secret from Ben.

"You only want Indian food when you're pregnant." Ben pointed out, completely oblivious to Vivien's attempt at a hint. Tate, on the other hand, picked it up instantly. His heart fluttered, as well as his stomach. Tate felt like he was going to throw up. In the kitchen, Ben finally realized what Vivien was trying to say. Tears filled the expecting couples eyes and they embraced. They were so happy, and that added to Tate's heartache. His head was spinning. This was wrong. It was all wrong. When they weren't paying attention, too lost in each other's arms, Tate emerged, watching for a moment. The room was spinning and his stomach felt like it was in his chest. Tate had to get out of there.

He vanished.

* * *

"So, what do shrinks think about when a wildly brilliant patient doesn't talk to punish said psychiatrist?" A cruel, teasing smirk spread across the pink lips that belonged to Tate Langdon. He sat up straight in the home office that belonged to Ben Harmon, his messy blonde curls hanging just the right way. "I bet you think about sex."

The game Tate was playing was working. The dumbfounded expression on Ben's face confirmed it. The doctor's mouth hung open for a moment, his blue eyes wide. He quickly collected himself and shook his head.

Tate leaned back in the leather chair leisurely, opening his arms wide and lazily placing them behind him. Tate wanted to make Ben uncomfortable. Ben was very against Tate developing a relationship with Violet, and Tate thought that was none of his business. Of course, Violet wasn't giving Tate the time of day, regardless. But Violet wasn't the only reason why Tate had this urge to get under Ben's skin. After what he'd found out a few days before, Tate was uneasy. Vivien was pregnant, and the entire situation scared the shit out of him. Tate was angry and for some reason, he blamed Ben for the whole thing. He had no idea why.

"Do you think about sex a lot?" Ben tried to brush off his confusion on how Tate had changed the direction of their conversation so abruptly. He tapped his pen against his notepad, staring at Tate with a question in his eyes.

"I think about one girl in particular." Tate smiled, looking around the room. His eyes landed on Ben and his lips curved into a cruel smirk. "Your daughter. I jerk off thinking about her. _A lot._" Tate felt of surge of satisfaction as he watched Ben's nostrils flare. The unshakable doctor had a weak spot, and it was his family. Despite the reason why he was saying those things, Tate wasn't lying. He didn't mean any disrespect to Violet. The truth was he did think about her, a lot. And he did jerk off thinking about her. _A whole lot._

"I'm not comfortable with you talking about my daughter, Tate." Ben shook his head, pursing his lips. The way he fidgeted in his chair made it obvious that he was incredibly uncomfortable. That knowledge gave Tate even more power.

"Don't you wanna know what I do to her?" Tate purred, leaning forward. The image he often created in his head was delicious. "I lay her down on the bed and I caress her soft skin. Make her purr like a little kitten." There was almost a visible glaze over Tate's eyes as he thought about it. "She's a virgin." He murmured, his tone hushed and sleepy. "They get wet _so_ easily."

Ben shook his head, trying to collect his thoughts. "Do you turn to these thoughts to comfort yourself? In times of stress?" He asked Tate. His attempt at keeping himself controlled made Tate roll his eyes. But.. The question did make him think.

"Actually, yes." Tate's smile dropped, he suddenly became very serious. "I jerk off to make the visions go away. The blood and the carnage… I want the thoughts to go away and you're not helping me." In times of stress, when Tate was feeling lost in the darkness that was always haunting him, the thought of Violet pulled him through it. She lit the way.

"Well, we've only been working together a few weeks now." Ben insisted. Tate didn't think that was enough though. He needed to get better. He had to.

"Well you're sexual, right?" Tate pointed out, his teasing smile slowly returning. "Violet told me about the girl in Boston. Not much older than her, she said."

Ben's nostrils flared and he instantly became rigid. He snapped his notepad shut. "Our time is up."

Tate rolled his eyes, angry at being dismissed just because he'd pushed the wrong button. Ben spent their sessions pushing Tate's buttons, so it was only fair that Tate pushed a few of his. "Bullshit. I don't accept that!"

"Our time is up for today, Tate." Ben's voice was stern. He reached onto the table, grabbing his tape recorder and turning it off. Angered by the injustice, Tate stood, towering over the doctor. Tate grabbed his messenger bag and violently stormed from the room.


End file.
